Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Chapter Two
Ada
He kissed my cheek… if I was braver, I’d pull him closer to me by his jacket and make him kiss me, but I’m not. He places his fingertips on my elbow and all but drags me out of the church. I don’t get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, but that’s okay. It’s Summer, so despite being almost seven-thirty in the evening, the sun is still out and Geeb appears eager to get me alone and I’m all for that. My body tightens in anticipation. I want my husband and that’s a good thing. I want him to touch me, like a man should and finally erase the memory of Matthew’s monstrous hands on me.
Did I mention that I am excited to be a wife, specifically his wife? I’ve had a week or so to get used to the idea of being Mrs. Geeb Hearst. I’m also excited to get to know what kind of man my husband is. Jasper filled me in on him. His family is a founding family of the town. Geeb grew up in Savannah Georgia and spent every summer in town with his grandparents. He played football, which I’m told is some kind of sport, in high school and college where he majored in journalism. He runs the newspaper in town, which is read as far as Huntington.
“Geeb?” I ask as we walk, well I practically run to keep up with him.
“Yes?” he asks, his fingers slightly tightening on my elbow. It doesn’t hurt and doesn’t scare me. I still want him to touch me everywhere else, like the heroes in the romance novels Lavinia has been checking out of the library for us. I’ve been devouring them, thinking they are like little textbooks that make my heart race. Geeb makes my heart race. I want him on top of me, inside of me, making me his. I can’t even chastise myself for my wicked thoughts… he is my husband after all.
“Where are we going?”
“Home,” he says, and we continue to walk away from the church, down Main Street. We pass the ice cream parlor, the mechanic, a tailor, the vet, a lawyer’s office, and the library and turn down 2nd Street. We walk for a couple of minutes and arrive at a huge house.
“This is where we live?” I ask, wondering if cleaning it is going to be as fun as I think it is.
“Yes. Is it not enough? If you hate it we can move.”
“What? No. I love it. It’s perfect.”
“Come inside. I’ll show you around.” We walk up the front steps and he unlocks the front door and goes inside. I stand outside, waiting. “What’s wrong?” he asks, looking at me like I’m crazy.
“It’s bad luck for you not to carry me over the threshold. I could trip and we’d be doomed.”
“You believe in things like that?”
“No. Of course not,” I say hastily and start to move inside the house. Before I can take another step, he lifts me into his arms and carries me inside the house. It feels amazing being in his arms. He just as quickly sets me down.
“There. Bad luck avoided. We definitely don’t need to add that to this,” he says, making me frown.
“Thank you,” I say. He just nods. He keeps doing and saying things that makes me think he didn’t want to marry me. I force myself to push that to the back of my mind as he takes me on a tour of the house. I smile as he tells me a little about each room we go into. He seems to love this house and I know I will too. Finally he stops in front of a closed bedroom door.
“The house is beautiful, Geeb.”
“Thank you. It was my grandparents. They died not too long ago, leaving it to me and Andrea. We decided we would never sell it, that way we’ll always have something to remember them by, though Andrea doesn’t want to live her. She still lives with our parents in Savannah and will eventually move out but not until she marries.” He sounds a little choked up about.
“You must miss your grandparents. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet them,” I say, touching his arm. He looks down at my hand on his arm and then back to my face.
“I do. This is your room,” he says, opening the door. It’s pretty. There is a floral bedspread on the bed and the walls are a blushy pink color. There is a nightstand on both sides of the bed, a dresser on the opposite wall and a TV mounted above it. There’s also a mid-century modern floral chair in the corner by the window.
“My room? Where’s your room?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
“Right next door. You have a private bathroom through that door there.”